The Phantom of McDuck Manor
by Lena de Strange
Summary: Scrooge doesn't quite know what to do with himself, now that his favourite butler Duckworth is back from the dead. Webby and Huey team up so they can try to remedy that. Meanwhile, Louie has been having a bit of business trouble lately. Burning tapestries included. -/\-/\- Don't like? Don't read. Simple as that. No need to waste your or my time with flames, right?
1. Chapter I

_A/N: Originally published on AO3._

* * *

Duckworth froze, his ghostly arm halfway through the door. "What?" the former butler murmured weakly, his voice so soft that at first he thought the elderly miser didn't even hear him.

And then he heard the words, escaping shakily from Scrooge's beak.

"Please... stay with me."

The former-butler-now-ghost turned around, his translucent eyes imperceptibly widening in surprise. His boss, who he had gently tucked into bed just moments before, was now sitting up. Scrooge's shoulders shuddered with a trembling breath and his gaze lowered a bit.

"I only just got ye back... I don't wannae wake up tomorrow and find that... that ye're gone," Scrooge said, his voice so quiet it was barely a whisper.

Duckworth sighed and hovered over to the distraught pekin. "I'm not going anywhere, Mister McDuck." He put his hand over Scrooge's in a reassuring gesture. "I'm here to stay." Scrooge stared at Duckworth's hand for a moment, marveling at the strange sensation. It felt light, slightly cold, and wispy. Like mist.

Their eyes met.

"I missed ye, Duckworth," Scrooge murmured, a faint smile spread across his beak.

"The feeling is mutual, Mister McDuck." Duckworth then pushed the pekin back into a lying position with his other hand, albeit with some difficulty. Being semi-solid was _not_ fun. Heck, being a _ghost_ wasn't much fun either. But Duckworth would take what he could get, as long as it meant he could be with his old boss again. "Now _you_ need to get some rest. It wouldn't do for you to be so tired the next morning that you accidentally write a check to Mister Glomgold again."

"Ugh. Don't remind me. He _still_ rubs it in from time to time." Scrooge shuffled up against the wall and patted the mattress next to him. Duckworth gave the miser a puzzled look. "Are ye waitin' fer an invitation or something?"

"I'm afraid I don't understand," Duckworth told him, his voice tinted with uncertainty.

"I _don't_ wannae lose ye again," Scrooge said. "I... I'd sleep better if I knew ye'd be right there when I wake up..."

Duckworth settled onto the vacant spot next to the pekin, not even making the slightest impression on the quilt as he did so. "That better?" he whispered.

That faint smile on Scrooge's beak widened ever so slightly.

"Yes."


	2. Chapter II

_At first Duckworth brushed it off as morning drowsiness. He had been sleepy in the mornings before- this was nothing new to him. So he went about his day, scrubbing and dusting, picking up Beakly's slack. But as morning packed its bags and let afternoon take its place, Duckworth only felt more run down. _ _He considered that perhaps that maybe he was getting sick, or even his old age was finally catching up with him. _

_But the butler was not going to let a little weariness slow him down. After all, it was Scrooge's birthday._

_And Duckworth was _not_ about to throw his boss a sub-par party. Not on his watch._

* * *

Scrooge jerked awake, his body cold with sweat, his heart racing. "Duckworth?" he whispered softly, panicking when he didn't see the ghostly butler.

"I'm here," came the gentle reply from behind. Scrooge realized he was facing the wall- he must have rolled over in his sleep. The pekin sat up and turned around in a swift, smooth movement. Duckworth lay beside him, wide awake, his transculent eyes watching in worry. "Are you alright, sir?"

"Yes," Scrooge murmured, lying back down on his side, this time facing Duckworth. "I take it ghosts don't need sleep?"

A small grin of amusement worked its way across the butler's lips. The sight caused Scrooge's heart to warm and twist at the same time. The dam started to crack as familiar feelings of guilt and grief began to build up once more. But the walls he had put up were strong, and they were sealed back up quickly.

Unfortunately, not quickly enough.

Duckworth's smile was replaced by concern. "Sir... are you sure you're alright?"

Scrooge was quiet for a moment as he considered carefully how to respond. "Why didn't ye tell me? That ye were dyin'... why didn't ye... say _anything?"_

Duckworth's gaze softened. He had just opened his mouth to reply when a banging on the bedroom door interrupted.

"Uncle Scrooooge‼" Huey's voice called. "Louie set fire to the tapestries again!"

* * *

The fire was easily put out with the help of a fire extinguisher or two, and Louie's "Louie Inc. Firefighter Program" got put on hold indefinitely. Duckworth briefly considered having a talk with the young lad himself about his business. But this in itself was put on hold too when Dewey _insisted_ that Duckworth should be his next special guest on "Dewey Dew Night."

And apparently they had to film the "episode" immediately.

So Duckworth found himself sitting on a small, wooden chair (that would likely have been very uncomfortable if he were still able to feel objects), staring at an audience consisting of lamps with faces drawn on their shades- all the while mildly concerned for Dewey's sanity. A camera sat in the center of the front row seats that Dewey had set up for "the audience," its red light silently blinking intermittently.

"Dewey here! Welcome back, crazy fans and snobby critics alike to Dewey Dew Night! Today we have a special guest in our midst!" Dewey excitedly gestured to Duckworth, who offered the camera a tiny, uncertain smile. "A real live ghost!"

"Technically, that statement is inaccurate," Duckworth pointed out immediately. "I cannot be a ghost _and_ alive at the same time."

"It's a figure of speech- lighten up," Dewey told him, not phased in the slightest. In fact, if anything, he seemed even more excited. "Alive or not," the ten year-old duckling explained enthusiastically to the camera and "the audience," "he's still a real ghost! Ladies and gentlemen, meet Mister, uh... Mister... hey, what _is_ your first name, Duckworth?"

Duckworth's gaze averted from the camera as he mumbled something inaudible. If a ghost could blush, he would no doubt be cherry red by now.

"Sorry, I didn't hear what you said. Could you speak a bit louder?"

"Bartholomew," Duckworth answered. "My first name is Bartholomew." Dewey struggled to contain his laughter, and failed miserably as he nearly choked on his own spit giggling hysterically. Duckworth could only shake his head and wonder how Scrooge _hadn't_ gone completely bonkers his first day with these kids. Donald and Della were one thing. Duckworth and Scrooge were able to handle those two with relatively ease.

Though many a day passed by since where the canine butler could only wonder if the dynamic duo was partly responsible for his hair loss.


	3. Chapter III

_A/N: Chapter three, everybody! The triplets and Webby are a lot of fun to write XD. Sorry if any of them are OOC, I'm not used to writing them. Also, despite not getting my coffee this morning, I was feeling good enough to write an entire chapter in a day, so YAY! _

_Maybe I take forever to write things cuz I didn't have enough motivation? I dunno. *shrugs* Don't expect me to keep up that streak, though XD. I have a penchant for never being able to keep a schedule._

_Anyways... onto the next chapter?_

_EDIT: Thank you so much, ReeReeWithAngst, for helping me out with this chapter. I appreciate it! :)_

* * *

Scrooge smiled in amusement as he strode down the hall, listening as Webby casually greeted Duckworth. The pekin leaned against the wall and patiently waited as his butler and Mrs. Beakly finished their classic spat, meanwhile giving Webby a wave and another smile as she hurried by, all the while blathering on to no one in particular about her time on "the island." Scrooge tried not to snicker at Beakly's pissed-off scowl as she stalked away and sidled up to Duckworth.

"And how's me favourite butler doin'?" Scrooge asked, attempting to nudge Duckworth's side with his shoulder (and failing).

"I am doing as well as the last time you asked me- _five minutes ago."_ The tone of his voice implied annoyance, but Duckworth's amused grin said otherwise.

His boss couldn't help but let out a snort.

"What- all of a sudden I'm not allowed occasionally ask me employee how he's doin'?"

Duckworth countered, "When is the last time you asked _Doctor Gearloose_ how_ he_ was doing?"

Scrooge considered this for a brief moment. "Eh... I'll get back to ye on that..." There was a moment of awkward silence as the miserly duck pondered what to say next. There were so many things he wanted to ask, so many things he wanted to say but never got to.

But the words were deeply lodged in his throat, unable to leave his beak.

_I missed ye._

_Don't leave me again._

_I missed ye so much._

_Please don't leave me again._

_Why didn't ye tell me?_

_I lov-_

"Sir?" Duckworth's concerned voice cut through Scrooge's thoughts like a hot knife slicing into butter, separating thought from reality. A misty hand found its place on the pekin's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Yes." Scrooge's voice came out as little more than a squeak as he pulled away from his ghostly butler. "Er, I just realised, I need to... make some cuts on Launchpad's pay check!" With that, the flustered duck scurried away as if he had just eaten a really hot jalapeno, much to Duckworth's puzzlement.

The butler shrugged it off and turned around to resume his dusting when Webby practically burst out of the hall, and cannonballed into the living room- all the while her beak practically flying a mile a minute as an incomprehensible mess of gibberish escaped her mouth. Duckworth, slightly taken aback, raised a translucent hand for her to stop. "Miss Webbigail, please. Speak more slowly. I did not understand a single word you said-"

"I knew it, I knew it!" Webby shrieked excitedly, only slowing her speech down a little bit. "I _knew_ it! I _knew_ there was something special about you! The SHIPPING has begun!" Duckworth, vaguely wondering about the current state of her sanity, could only stare after her blankly as she raced off to do only God knows what.

"... shipping...?"

* * *

_It had been a silly mistake, really. A silly, stupid mistake. He had_ _never been one to make such mistakes. Duckworth leaned against the kitchen cabinet door, eyes closed as he tried to recenter himself._

_"Duckworth?" _

_He knew that voice. Laced with that lovely lilt of Scottish accent. Except this time it was laced with worry as well._

_"Duckworth, are ye alright?"_

_"'m fine, sir," the canine butler slurred, his voice disconcertingly uneven. "Jus'... jus' tir... no, 'm fine." Duckworth straightened up and started to move back towards the counter to clean up the mess he had made when the world decided to go for a spin. He started to fall forward, only stopping when Scrooge grabbed him by the arm and pulled the canine back onto his feet._

_"Ye're not fine," Scrooge said pointedly, still holding on tightly lest his butler fall again._

_Duckworth attempted to protest, but his mouth had stopped working altogether. His whole body felt distant and numb, as if he were miles away, and someone else was pulling the strings. A terrifying thought flew into his head. Duckworth tried to squash it when it started to take a more tangible shape, but it was too late._

_He was not going to wake up tomorrow._

* * *

"Huey, do you think they have ghoul burritos in the afterlife?" All three triplets looked over at Webby, slightly disturbed. "What?" she asked blankly. "I read about it in a book of spells once."

Louie, who was sprawled on his bunk browsing on his phone, raised an eyebrow. "... Oooookay..." He went back to looking at his phone, only to be interrupted once more when Huey, who was sitting next to him, elbowed him. "Ow," the green clad triplet said in an unimpressed tone.

"Read a book," Huey told him. "Maybe one about _fire safety measures." _Evidently he was still feeling sour towards Louie after that incident with the burning tapestries. Huey, who had been really freaked out at the time (for obvious reasons), had given the green hoodied duckling a good scolding about how he could have hurt himself and even others by setting that fire.

"Make me," Louie shot back, not glancing up at his brother even once._ Not my fault Launchpad didn't come flying to the rescue like he was supposed to._ He paused his train of thought a moment. _Then again, with the way he_ _crashes_ everything,_ he'd have probably just started another fire..._

"Guuuyyysss!" Dewey, who sat on the floor with a notepad and pen in hand, glared at both siblings in annoyance. "I'm _trying_ to make plans for my next episode of _Dewey Dew Night™!"_

"So make plans," Huey replied, elbowing Louie again and eliciting another fake "Ow."

Webby couldn't hold it in any longer. "IthinkUncleScroogeisinlovewithDuckworthandIshipit!" All three triplets looked at her again, having not understood a single word she said.

Dewey put a hand to his chin and pretended to be deep in thought. "Uh huh... uh huh..."

"Stop it, Dewey- this is _serious!"_ Webby shrieked, jumping up and down in both excitement and annoyance.

_"What's_ serious?" Huey asked, starting to lose patience. It didn't help that Louie was elbowing him now. Right in the ribs too, for that matter. "Stop it, Louie!"

"IthinkUncleScroogeisinLOVEwithDUCKWORTH!" Louie and Dewey looked at each other blankly, then at Webby. She seemed to get the silent message and repeated what she said more slowly, carefully emphasising the key words. "I think that _Uncle Scrooge_ is in _love_ with _Duckworth."_

"Wait, what- our uncle has it for _ghosts?"_ Dewey asked, trying (and failing miserably) not to laugh.

"Has _what_ for ghosts? Wha- wait, he does? When did this happen- what?" Huey picked up his notebook and quickly scribbled something out. "Well, that explains that."

"Explains what?" Dewey looked at Huey blankly.

"Ewwww! I don't wanna talk about old people romance," Louie complained, sticking out his tongue and shivering in disgust. "Yuck. I think it's safe to say we have _all_ had enough of that during your _Goldie_ phase. Let's talk about something else."_ Or, better yet,_ he thought,_ not talk at all._

"What in this entire _multiverse_ could possibly be more exciting than true love?!" Webby demanded.

Louie facepalmed. He was about ready to snap at this point. "I dunno, maybe the fact that Launchpad failed to show up in time for my Louie Incorporated Firefighter program?!"

"That's... not exciting," Huey said, cringing.

Dewey nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that's more like... well, all I know is what it _isn't...__"_

"Whatever. I'm calling Launchpad now." Louie dialed the pilot's number and growled in frustration when the only thing that greeted him was Launchpad's voicemail message.

_"... if I__ didn't answer your call, that probably means one of two things: I'm having my annual Darkwing Duck Marathon, or I crashed again and lost my phone. Yikes! Speaking of crashing- YYYAAAAAAAHHH!"_

Louie lowered his phone and smiled at his brothers sheepishly. "Oookaaayyy... that's a... new one."

* * *

_A/N #2: Yeah, I think Webby would enthusiastically ship McDuckworth if the thought even grazed her mind. Hopefully the kids weren't TOO zany XD. __If there were any mistakes (spelling, grammar, loopholes, etc.) lemme know._

_ Just no flames, okay? Please? Thanks! :)_


	4. Chapter IV

_A/N: Chapter four is up! :) Special thanks again to ReeReeWithAngst for all her help with this story, as well as her wonderful reviews. Reading them makes my gloomy day a bit brighter. And thank you, __fandomroleplayer7633, for your awesome reviews too. If this site would let me use heart emojis, I'd probably be leaving lots of hearts in the wake of this authour's note XD._

_And if you all are looking to find some more good angst, please check out ReeReeWithAngst's "Deathtales!" And definitely grab some (or a lot of) tissues beforehand. It may make you cry, but it's really really good! :) I also recommend checking out "To be or not to be" (also by ReeReeWithAngst)- it needs more love!_

_Also, I forgot that Louie Inc. came into play much later in the DuckTales cartoon, but since I consider this story somewhat AU already, Imma just roll with it._

* * *

_It was supposed to be a simple in and out operation. Find a way to sneak into the suare, grab the target, and get out. It would have been his and Agent 22's smoothest op ever if it hadn't been for a certain blonde._

_Scrooge would have just ignored her and focused on the op- except for the fact that the aforementioned blonde was systematically pickpocketing each of the guests pockets. The spy stepped away from Agent 22- who was still scanning the room for any sign of their target- for a brief moment and grabbed Goldie's wrist as she started to reach for the back pocket of another unsuspecting guest._

_"Goldie. I don' know what yeh're doin' here, but I-"_

_"You what?" Goldie cut him off, putting on a fake innocent smile. "You're happy to see me? Well, I'm happy to see you too, Scroogie!"_

_"What are ye doin' here, Goldie?"_

_Goldie's brow crinkled. "I thought that was obvious- relieving these poor overstuffed hams called richfolk of their heavy old wallets."_

_Scrooge rolled his eyes and muttered, "Of course."_

_"How about you, Scroogie? What're you doing here in England? Last I saw you, you were in America smashing rocks."_

_"None of yer business, ye-"_

_T__he former would-be victim of Goldie's pickpocketing turned around unexpectedly and locked eyes with Scrooge. The latter stared back and his grip on Goldie's wrist slackened. "I- I..."_

_"Can I help you?" the tall, handsome canine gentleman asked, looking at both pekins with a slightly bewildered expression. Scrooge opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a tiny squeak. _

_Goldie smirked and looked over at Scrooge. "Someone's awfully quiet over there," she teased, laughing. She leaned closer to the starstruck duck and whispered in amusement, "Way to make a girl jealous, Scroogie." She then pulled away and said, "I'll leave you two boys alone."_

_"I- wait, what?! Goldie-!"_

_But she was already gone. __Scrooge looked back up at the gentleman and smiled sheepishly. "Eh, so... wannae drink?"_

_The gentleman smiled pleasantly back at him, meanwhile studying the duck curiously. "Indeed I would."_

* * *

Louie knew he should have vacated the premises as soon as Webby started yammering about Scrooge and Duckworth. But the hoodied duckling had nothing better to do with his time, and even if he did, it would take more than a half-crazed Webby Vanderquack caught up in _Shipping Mode_ to convince him to get his duff off of his bunk. But as Webby started setting up her "Mission Board" on the triplets' bedroom wall, Louie began to reconsider his decision to stick around. More likely than not, he was probably going to get dragged into what would no doubt be a failed attempt to get Scrooge a date.

A date with a freaking _ghost_, no less.

Louie couldn't figure out if the concept was completely messed up, or just depressing. Probably both, he decided.

"I call it 'Operation: _McDuckworth_ Hookup!'" Webby declared, waving her hands around dramatically.

Louie facepalmed in annoyance. He should leave. Now, before he gets dragged into this inevitable disaster. "Well, see ya later." He stuffed his phone in his pocket and stood up to leave. "I've got way better things to do than get involved in... whatever the heck this is."

"Like _what_, exactly?" Huey demanded, crossing his arms and looking over at his brother. "Setting _more_ fires?"

"You just _aren't_ gonna let that go, are you?"

_"Nope."_

"Look, you guys just do your thing and I'll do mine, okay?" Louie replied, not fased in the slightest. "Which means while you two waste _your_ time trying to get Uncle Scrooge to hook up with our new ghost butler, I'm gonna go downstairs and be my lovably lazy self. Maybe have an Ottoman Empire marathon or something."

Huey sighed and shook his head. "Just... no more fires- okay, Lou?"

"Sure, yeah. Sounds good. I'll even give you a pinky promise for ten dollars."

"... I... _ten__ dollars...? _For a _pinky promise?!"_

* * *

Scrooge attempted to distract himself with work, desperately trying to ignore the icy tingling that relentlessly tickled his shoulder. The very same shoulder Duckworth had rested his hand on earlier that day. "I am _not_ in love," the pekin told himself, flipping through the pages of a notepad, mindlessly skimming the scribbled-on pages. "I am _not_ in love." He thought he had finally rid himself of these feelings after Duckworth's death.

Clearly, that wasn't the case.

"I am definitely_ not_ in love." The tangled mess of warmth in his chest said otherwise. Scrooge let his head fall onto the desk limply.

_I _am_ in love._

Much as Scrooge wanted to deny it, it was the truth.

_I am in _love.

And with his own butler no less.

_Duckworth..._

The pekin sighed and lifted his head off the desk, meanwhile fixing his now-crooked glasses. What was stopping him? What was stopping him from walking up to Duckworth and finally saying the words?

Fear? Fear of rejection? Just because Scrooge was aware of Duckworth's... _preference_ didn't mean that the canine would be even remotely interested in him that way.

_Well, there was that one time..._

But that had been _years_ ago. And the circumstances at the time weren't exactly... _ideal, _in more ways than one.

* * *

_Scrooge chuckled nervously as the canine gentleman- whose name Scrooge learned was Duckworth- led him into the empty alley. The duck's alcohol-fogged mind swirled erratically and his chest pounded with excitement for what was about to happen. Anyone could walk down this alley at any minute and see them. The thought brought about another surge of delicious adrenaline. _

_Duckworth stopped walking._

_ Suddenly he pushed the avian up against the brick wall, that soft wistful expression having morphed into something else, something Scrooge couldn't identify. __"I personally know every person whose name I put onto that guest list," Duckworth told him, tightening his grip on the pekin's shoulders. "And last I checked, before today we had _never_ met. So... I feel inclined to ask- who are you? What is your business here, exactly?"_

_Scrooge opened his beak, but no words came out._

_Duckworth sighed and leaned closer, his cold wet nose brushing the side of the middle-aged pekin's cheek. "Hmmm... then again, perhaps I should not look a gift horse in the mouth..." _

_"No," Scrooge replied, his voice slightly husky. He closed his eyes in pleasure at the sensation. "Probably not." The pekin lifted his hands and dug his fingers into Duckworth's suit, pulling him closer. "Definitely not."_

_"You are enjoying this," the taller male whispered. "I can tell."_

_"And so are ye," Scrooge countered, opening his eyes and locking his gaze with Duckworth's. "I can tell."_

_"Indeed I am." Duckworth pulled his head away slightly from Scrooge's and continued, smiling, "I will not pry into your business, so long as it does not interfere with mine." He removed the duck's hat and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "And so far... it hasn't." The canine then pressed his lips against Scrooge's beak, dropping the hat and cupping both sides of his face. Scrooge returned the kiss with equal fervour, wrapping his arms around Duckworth's neck._

_The kiss only lasted for about five seconds, but to Scrooge it seemed like an eternity. An eternity he would happily indulge in again, given the chance. It felt... right._

_Scrooge dimly heard Duckworth let out a grunt of pain. The dog pulled himself out of the kiss and out of his companion's arms, and stood there, wobbling as he yanked a tiny red dart out of his neck. He stared down at the dart for a moment and then collapsed, knocked out cold. S__crooge whipped his head to the side and saw Agent 22 standing a ways away with a dart gun in one hand and a limp body tied up with rope hoisted over her other shoulder. "If you are done... _adventuring_ with the locals," Agent 22 said, sounding somewhat annoyed, "we ought to be going."_

_Scrooge struggled to hold back a scowl as he asked, "And what will happen to him?" He gestured down at the unconscious canine in question as he spoke._

_"Oh- him? He'll be fine," Agent 22 answered. "He is not going to remember anything that happened in the past hour. Now, if we could get out of here before someone sees us...?"_

* * *

When Donald had returned home that day, the sun was almost set and the fireflies were already up and about, their little bioluminescent butts lighting up as they lazily flew about without a care in the world. Donald felt bad for leaving the boys all alone with Scrooge on the old man's birthday. He should have at least stayed a few minutes longer so the kids could pack and come with him. He just prayed that Scrooge wasn't too hard on the boys. Knowing Huey, he and his brothers probably tried to throw him a party.

Well, maybe Huey and Dewey tried. Donald could only see Louie standing on the background, just casually watching the chaos unfold while sipping a can of pep.

Donald removed his luggage from the trunk of his "dilapidated jalopy" as Scrooge once called it and trudged up to the front door. He set one of the suitcases down and rung the doorbell, then waited.

And waited.

He rung the doorbell again and called through the door, " Helloooooo! Uncle Scrooge? Mrs. Beakley? Anybody in there? Hellooo?!"

No response.

_I knew I should've taken the morning flight._

Donald banged his fist on the doorbell, starting to lose patience. The door swung open, revealing a large, black mass levitating a few inches above the floor. Donald slowly lifted his gaze to meet a pair of red eyes adorning a horned skull.

"... WAAAAAAAAAAAAKKKK!"


End file.
